All Chapters of Rival's Contract Marriage : Chapter 131 - Chapter 140

Cameron’s POVThe hospital smelled like hand sanitizer and regret. I didn’t want to be here—not really. But I had to. For Brandon. For the mess he was stuck in because of me. Because I hadn’t seen Drake for who he really was sooner.I stood next to the bed, arms crossed so tight my fingers left crescent moons in my skin. Drake looked too clean, too peaceful for someone who’d detonated my whole life. Pale, bruised, hooked to an IV like a victim. But he wasn’t. He was the reason Brandon was facing charges. The reason I couldn’t sleep without feeling violated. The reason I felt like I didn’t know myself anymore.His eyelids twitched. Then slowly—way too slowly—he opened them. His gaze landed on me, and for a second, it was like nothing had ever happened.“Cam?” he croaked, a weak smile forming on his lips. “You came.”I stayed still.“You shouldn’t be here alone,” he added, like he was worried about me. Like he wasn’t the threat.I didn’t answer that. Just stared. “What will it take?”Hi

Cameron’s POVI slammed the door shut behind me and tossed my keys onto the counter like they’d personally betrayed me too. My shoes were kicked halfway across the living room, my hoodie landed on the floor, and my phone? Yeah, I nearly chucked it at the wall before thinking Maybe don’t break the thing that might still hold the truth.The apartment was too quiet.Too clean.Too full of memories I didn’t know if I should keep or burn.I hated that everything still smelled like Brandon. Like that vanilla-woodsy cologne he always wore. Like the faint trace of cinnamon from his stupid chai obsession. And worse? His hoodie was still draped over the back of the couch, right where he left it after our last movie night.God.I was gonna throw up.I collapsed onto the couch and curled into myself, like maybe if I made myself small enough, the pain would shrink too. But nope. It sat in my chest like a damn boulder.My phone buzzed.I almost ignored it.Then I saw the name: Hilda.My stomach twi

Brandon’s POVI had taken care of everything.I made the calls. I hired the lawyer. I handled the press. I even told the board I was stepping away from company matters temporarily, just so Cameron could breathe. I’d taken the hit. Cleaned up the mess. I’d done it all for him.And he hadn’t replied to a single message.Not even one.My phone had been glued to my hand all day. I kept refreshing our chat, rereading the last texts I sent—“Call me, please. I’m begging you.” “Let me explain.” “Don’t let Drake get in your head.”Nothing.He was online.He was reading them.He just wasn’t answering.So I did what any desperate idiot would do—I called.One ring.Two.Voicemail.I tried again.And again.And again.I must’ve called twenty-seven times before the green light on my phone screen finally flickered to life. The line connected. My heart stopped.“Cam—” I started.“We’re done.”His voice was sharp. Cold. Final.I froze. “Wait—what?”“You and me. We’re done,” he said again, quieter this

Chapter: The StandCameron stood in front of the giant oak doors of his father’s office. His hands were trembling, but not from fear this time. From anger. From everything he’d swallowed for months. Years.He knocked.“Come in,” came the deep voice from inside.Cameron stepped in and closed the door behind him. His father, Dorian Weller, was seated behind a large mahogany desk, reading a newspaper like it was still 1995. The room smelled like wood polish and power. The kind of space built to make you feel small.But today, Cameron wasn’t playing small.“I want to talk,” he said.Dorian didn’t look up. “If it’s about that drama with Brandon again, I’m not interested.”Cameron’s jaw tightened. “I’m calling off the engagement.”That got his attention.The paper lowered. Slowly. Deliberately. Dorian’s cold eyes found his son’s. “Excuse me?”“I said I’m calling off the engagement,” Cameron repeated, firmer now. “I can’t marry someone I don’t trust.”Dorian stood, pushing his chair back. “Y

The second I stepped into the boardroom, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Everything looked too expensive, too clean. Like it belonged to someone older. Someone… not me.Twelve directors. All of them in dark suits. All of them giving me that look—the one adults give you when they’re pretending to be polite but secretly think you’re about to screw everything up.I adjusted my blazer sleeve and walked to the head of the table. My father’s chair.It didn’t feel right. Sitting in it. Like I was trespassing in his shadow.But I sat anyway.“I’ve made a decision,” I said, heart pounding against my ribs. “I’m calling off the engagement with Brandon Ellis.”Dead silence.And then—“This is not the time for impulsive choices—”“The market just dropped nine percent—”“Cameron, we are already in crisis management—”“This will only worsen public sentiment—”The noise was like a wave crashing over me. Loud, chaotic, full of panic. I sat there, gripping the edge of the table, wondering if I should s